


Time and Tide

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: If Thou Art Broken [6]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: The ocean is the only sound, waves quiet like calm breathing – the heartbeat of a slumbering world, lost to everyone but the gods, and perhaps the soul of a single mortal. One look around is all it takes to know these thoughts cannot be hers, because she has never seen this place – well, maybe in another life, but she has no memories of it.(The Watcher talks with Thaos' soul in a dreamscape.)





	Time and Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_Miya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/gifts).



> (Prompt 33: vacation.)  
> (Long story short: the Watcher chooses to put Thaos’ soul in the soul prison. After a few years, she returns, because she has a god to hunt down, and who knows more about the gods than Thaos? He agrees to help if she promises to free him afterwards. She does, then transfers his soul to an adra amulet, and sets sail for Deadfire.)

 

The first thing she notices is the murmur of the waves, and the faint spray of water and foam carried by the salty breeze. She looks around and takes a breath, and then another the beauty of the place slowly sinks in. Everything is deep and soft and forgiving – the night, the sea, the sky; and the stars are jewels scattered on Vailian velvet and shimmering Ixamitl silk. The ruins merge seamlessly with the rock, just as the sky melts with the ocean on the horizon. But there is more; some inner silence envelops this place, peace and serenity too profound for even the most talented chanter to describe.

The ocean is the only sound, waves quiet like calm breathing – the heartbeat of a slumbering world, lost to everyone but the gods, and perhaps the soul of a single mortal. One look around is all it takes to know these thoughts cannot be hers, because she has never seen this place – well, maybe in another life, but she has no memories of it.

Thaos is nowhere in sight, but he must be here, since he has built this vision around her. But if there are ruins, there might be underground passages and chambers as well – maybe even a whole temple – and he can be hiding there. Perhaps to give her some illusion of privacy.

He cannot see her soul nor thoughts unless she lets him, but it is enough to know his consciousness always hovers just on the verge of hers; a constant presence at the edge of her mind. That alone makes it hard to focus, and even more difficult to let go, forget everything and take a moment to rest. But here, in this enchanted landscape that probably no longer exists in the real world, maybe she will be able to find some respite.

She walks across the terrace, to where the crumbling, tiled stairs give way to the ocean. After a moment of hesitation, she takes off her shoes and takes another step down. The water is pleasantly cool, just as the air is warm; it must be a summer evening. She inhales and briefly closes her eyes and focuses on the sensations, on here and now. There is something in this place that makes it easier to leave all the worries behind, to... forget. It reminds her of Ondra, but it is nothing like what she felt when she talked with the goddess. More... honest. More... merciful.

“Welcome to the Seavault,” says a quiet, deep voice behind her back.

She turns slowly and blinks. Yes, she recognizes him instantly, but in this place, he looks different, too. Gone are the heavy, embroidered vestments she remembers from Sun in Shadow, replaced by a simple robe that is billowing gently in the breeze. He is wearing sandals instead of boots, and his hair is dark, not the greyish white she has seen in the images from her past, in life, and during their previous talks.

“Isn’t that one of Ondra’s names?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“It was her... home, for a while. Before, when she was a mortal, and right after she became a goddess. She was different, back then.” He makes a vague motion with his hand, indicating nothing in particular and everything around them at once. “Though I’m certain you can tell that.”

“Yes.” She walks up the low stairs and approaches him.

Thaos does not pay her attention, and it seems he expects none from her either. They are both here because it is the only way for them to talk, much more natural than just emptiness or shattered images – when they can pretend they are in a real place and meeting in person, and the words are coming out of their mouths, not minds. There had to be some reason why he decided to show her this place, but she already knows he will reveal nothing unless he deems the time right, and no questions and no amount of pestering can convince him to change his mind. If there is some way to persuade him, she has not discovered it yet.

So, when he makes no attempts at conversation, she leans against the cracked stone balustrade lightly and turns, taking the opportunity to simply observe him. There are certain mannerisms and habits that even those mental outlines of souls retain quite often – which, of course, means he is just as calm and composed as he was in life, and just as easy to read as a mirror or a pane of glass. Or an adra stone.

His face is changed, too, younger; the wrinkles that were once etched on his skin now merely sketches. But there is something... His eyes, she realises. Just as old and deep as ever. He is like an adra stone, both ageless and ancient.

“What have you found so interesting in me so suddenly, Watcher?” he asks, one dark eyebrow arching in an expression of both curiosity and mild mockery.

“Reflections,” she answers absent-mindedly, thinking of this place and their mirror images. And yet that might be the closest to the truth.

He shakes his head slightly; she has the distinct impression that he would roll his eyes if he did not consider it inelegant. “Ask, if you must.”

“What this place used to be, before Ondra?”

“It was a place of healing, where people you now call ciphers mended souls.” His exhale is soft like a sigh. “It was a place of healing after Ondra left, too, for a while. Different methods... same purpose.”

“Washing away unwanted memories?” she guesses.

“Worries. Burdens. You can feel it even now, can you not?” he inquires. There is a spark of interest in his eyes; like that of an artisan or a craftsman awaiting an opinion on their art.

“Yes.” She ponders it for a while. “I didn’t know thoughts can have such power.”

He smiles, just a little patronising. “Thoughts have all the power, Watcher. Thoughts and souls. Perhaps they are one and the same.”

“Why this place? Why have you brought me here?” She faces him and looks into his eyes. “Worried about my well-being?” she adds with a smile, because sometimes it is easier to cope with exhaustion and doubts using humour.

“About my own. You are instrumental to my survival, Watcher.” His eyes narrow a little. “I would hate to end at the bottom of the ocean somewhere in the Deadfire Archipelago. Think how boring it would be.” He shrugs. “Therefore, it’s in my vested interest to keep you alive, and to keep that amulet which holds my soul safely around your neck.”

“I’m careful. And cautious. And sleeping well enough, thank you.”

“It’s your waking hours I’m concerned about.”

For a while, they just look at each other. She is the first to tear her gaze away as she turns back towards the ocean.

“Have you ever questioned your choice of a... god?” she asks at last.

“Very few haven’t, Watcher. What kind of belief would it be if it didn’t withstand questions?” he replies, cryptic as ever.

She glances at him. “You didn’t answer.”

His smile is wry and mirthless. “I didn’t think you’d need to ask.” Again, he shakes his head. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might not be a suitable person to talk to about faith?”

Thoughtfully, she looks at his face, into his eyes. She could use her Watcher skills on him – she probably still could, that is – but promised herself she never would. There is a good chance he would be able to lie to her even then.

“What would be the point of lying when you’ve seen my soul through and through?” he replies.

She has been thinking too loudly. Again. “You didn’t answer me,” she repeats.

Thaos sighs impatiently. “I have. Many times. What did you expect, Watcher?” His voice is sharp, harsh; her question must have struck home... if he ever had one. “The road to unwavering certainty is paved with doubts,” he adds quietly. “If nothing else, history should have taught you that. Waidwen and his war should have.”

“Do you regret?”

“Ah, always the Eothasian...” He snorts. “Trying to redeem me, Watcher? A man who does not believe? That would be quite a feat.”

“Everyone believes in something. Even you.”

“I believe in seeing this... endeavour to an end, and being free once more.” Again, he is giving her no answer... Or is he?

“Duty, isn’t it?” she asks quietly. “You believe in your duty.”

“As do you.”

“And what happens when duty collides with something else you believe in?”

“Why don’t you tell me that, Watcher?” His whisper cuts through the warm night air like a falling icicle.

She does not flinch, does not take a step back. She stands her ground, her shoulders straights and head held high, even if she has to blink away some stray tears. There is no need to speak; he wanted a reaction, not a reply.

Thaos shakes his head, his shoulders falling slightly. “But not now, Watcher. There will be time for that later.”

“Apology accepted,” she mutters under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“Yes. I did.” His expression does not change, but his voice loses its sharp edge. “Turn away and leave it all behind and just breathe. We can’t have you hesitate or burst into tears in the middle of combat.” Slight mockery, stinging, but never cruel, and that slightly patronising tone; they are back on familiar territory. “You will ask your questions when you catch your god, but to accomplish that, you must rest.”

“And thank you.”

“What on Eora for?”

“Reason. Duty. Your vested interest. However you call it.”

For a blink of an eye, there is a hint of a genuine smile on his lips. “Rest, Watcher.”

“It was yours, too, wasn’t it?” she calls after he has turned away and started walking back towards the ruins.

Thaos stops and glances at her over his shoulder. “My what?”

“Place of healing.”

He holds her gaze, his face impassive as ever. “Had been.”


End file.
